[Lunar Independence is finally a reality. It was a long battle, but we made it and with little bloodshed. Even a little, though, was too much. Still, as revolutions go, this was a peaceful one. But, I just couldn't handle the hoopla. Mike had an alternative, though. - Carolyn]
"Got your eyes closed?" Mikes voice echoed like we were in a hallway of some sort.
"Yes, I have my eyes closed. I feel like some child at a birthday party about to be given a gift. I never liked that much. The eyes closed part, I mean. Not the gift."
Mike laughed. "Why is it that I believe that? Okay, you can open them."
I almost forgave him when I did open my eyes to find myself surrounded by stars and the stark lunar landscape.
"It's one of four observation domes used by researchers, planners, and if necessary by space traffic controllers if the electronics go down. You can see the "catcher" for the lunar shuttles over there, and off to the left is the launch elevator."
I turned in the direction Mike pointed. I entered Armstrong City through the "catcher" almost four years ago, and I rode the launch elevator in a freighter on a mission that still gave me nightmares, but I never saw them from the outside.
"I thought we'd watch the fireworks from here."
I did not ask how Mike gained access to this place. His secretive past working security gave him access to more places than I wanted to know.
"Anywhere is better than on the platform in the park." As a member of the provisional council, albeit a minor one, I had a "place of honor." But my job was that of a historian examining the past to find a direction for the future. They did not need a historian today. Besides, I hate crowds.
"I figured. They won't be too mad will they?"
"It does not matter. My tenure on the council ends next month."
"Well, tonight, you can just sit back and enjoy yourself. I've got the evening handled."
Mike reached under a counter and pulled out a wicker picnic basket. He opened it and pulled out two steaming takeout plates with the name "Cavor's Place" inscribed on the lids from the heated side of the basket and a frosted bottle of Pepsi from the cooler side along with two long stemmed glasses.
"Eggplant parmesan for you and spaghetti and meatballs for me. And some imported Pepsi bottled at the source in Atlanta Georgia."
The local Pepsi made with the lunar ice water just didn't taste as good as that from Earth.
"Mike, this is pretty expensive."
"Tosh, I got a bit of extra money for a job I did a couple of months ago."
"One of those jobs you cannot speak about." Mike just smiled. I knew that meant to ask no more.
We ate with the dinner flavored with comfortable small talk: School gossip, mutual friends, his youngest daughter's graduation from Stanford, my new book release, the stuff of friendly chatter between – what – lovers? That does not exactly fit although we have both proclaimed our love for one another. Friends? No, we moved beyond that long ago. In some ways we are like an old married couple able to move from a rip roaring argument to a loving conversation without seeing any distinction between the two.
Yet, we were not a married couple. Maybe companion is the best term. Ours was a companionship forged of common struggle and sometimes danger, of mutual respect, joyful fighting, and comfortable small talk. From time to time we both talked about the future, but quickly returned to the present.
"The show's about to begin." Mike pulled out his handheld and launched the radio app.
"---begins in a few minutes. The dignitaries are gathering on the platform. The holoscreen is descending over the park. At close to 500 meters in diameter, it is the largest ever produced. Such a screen would crumple in on itself under its own weight on earth, making it a fitting symbol of a new world finally free of the domination of the mother planet."
A few boring speeches intended to be inspirational followed. Neither of us listened. Neither of us talked. We sat staring at the lunar landscape and the vast star field. Just barely above the horizon a sliver of blue and green was all that could be seen of earth from this vantage point. It was as if the council had ordered a black sequined backdrop for the show and God delivered.
Suddenly, a line of fire ascended into the dark and burst into a cascade of colors that drifted slowly back to the colorless lunar surface. Another followed and another. They formed bouquets of fire flowers in the sky. They spun and arched and bled through each other over and over again in silence.
We turned off the radio. Someone came up with the idea of including the sound effects one would hear at a fireworks show on earth, but this was not earth. The silent explosions of beauty were right and proper. We whispered our admiration and our surprises and pointed out nuances in the show to each other in hushed tones as if we were in the presence of something, if not holy, at least somewhat sacred.
At one point Mike gently took my hand, "You made this happen. Your advocacy of independence after – Well, after Juan died. No one else could have-"
"Stop right there Michael Cheravik. No one person makes a revolution happen. It's a mix of the times, the attitudes of the populace, --"
"And someone willing to speak to that."
"Well, it was the least I could do to honor Juan's vision." A brief memory of Juan's body on the floor darkened the brightness of the fireworks.
"Oh, shut up Mike and watch the fireworks." Mike squeezed my hand briefly, then slipped his arm around my shoulder. I scooted my chair a bit closer to his and laid my head on his shoulder. As the fireworks ended and we sipped the last of the Pepsi, we got up ready to leave.
Mike stopped and reached toward a closet door.
"Mike what are you doing?"
"That door isn't all the way shut. I just thought mayb—"
"Don't you dare open that door. We had a good evening. A nice normal evening. No murders, no thieves, no terrorists. Just a nice simple evening watching fireworks. With our luck if you open that door a body will fall out. And there goes the evening."
"But- "
"No 'buts' we are leaving now."
I pushed Mike out the door and turned out the light.
Steal this Story!!!
Feel free to post this story on your noncommercial blog or website as long as there is full attribution given and a link back to http://www.facebook.com/darksidenovel.
Licensed under a creative commons license.
Fireworks by Terri Main is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at darksidenovel.blogspot.com.
